


The Mentalists

by Pineprin137



Series: Wincest Codas [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Angst, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Episode: s07e07 The Mentalists, Established Relationship, Guilt, Guilty Dean Winchester, Heavy Angst, Insomnia, M/M, Self-Hatred, Stomach Ache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27752482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137
Summary: Just because they're working a case together doesn't mean all is okay between the Winchesters.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Wincest Codas [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671544
Kudos: 31





	1. Sleeping Alone Doesn't Feel Right Anymore

Dean rolled over to face the empty side of the bed and sighed heavily. It didn’t feel right to sleep alone-- not knowing that Sam was here...in the same friggin’ town. 

With a groan, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Resting one hand on his sour stomach, he belched softly. It tasted like last night’s pizza and warm beer. 

He groaned. _Great._ Another night plagued by searing heartburn and indigestion... 

Dean rose, walked over to his duffle, and dug around until he found the bottle of chalky antacids he’d bought a few days ago. 

Because it wasn’t like he’d been downing them nightly, long before Leviathan Him told Sam about Amy. Amy--who Dean killed so Sam wouldn't have to... 

Yawning, he checked the clock. It was just now three, which meant he’d only gotten about an hour of sleep.  _ Awesome. _

Walking into the bathroom, he flipped on the light and made the mistake of looking up. The mirror was definitely not kind. 

His face was pale, the spray of freckles across his nose and on his cheeks standing out starkly. The bags under his eyes- some of the worst he'd ever sported- were even more pronounced in the artificial light. 

It was evident from the crease between his brows that his headache was still hanging on, too. 

All in all, he looked about like he felt-- like a big ol' steamin' pile of crap. 


	2. I Can Close My Eyes But Nothing Happens

Sam turned onto his belly and tried burrowing his cheek into the lumpy pillow. Hair flopping in his eyes, he blew out a frustrated breath. He hadn’t managed a good night’s sleep in months. 

First, it had been because of the Devil-- Lucifer loved keeping him awake.

Then, Sam had worried himself sleepless over the Leviathans and Dick Roman.

Right after Bobby died, neither he nor Dean got much sleep. Most nights, they'd filled up on caffeine and pretended to watch whatever crappy infomercial was on at the time.

But none of those were the reason Sam couldn't sleep tonight. No, tonight, his brother was to blame, or rather, it was Dean's presence in Lillydale.

Seeing his brother in the cafe had hurt like hell. 

Dean had killed Amy...after Sam asked him not to.

But Dean had done it anyway. And then, to pour salt into the wound, he'd _lied_ about it! 

If Leviathan Dean hadn't told him back in the police station... Well, it made Sam wonder if Dean would have ever come clean to him. 

He just didn't get it. 

They'd let monsters go before, given them a second chance.  Amy wouldn't have been the first. 

So, why had Dean killed her after Sam asked him not to? 

Was it because _Sam_ believed she could be trusted and not Dean? 

Or did Dean think, that because Sam had had a few hallucinations, his instincts couldn't be trusted? 

He was still a hunter, dammit! He still had the same training and the same instincts. He knew the difference between good and evil. 

And Amy had been good. 

Sam had thought that once he explained Amy's motive, Dean would understand. 

Amy hadn't killed those people because she enjoyed it; she'd done it to save her son's life. 

Dean had _repeatedly_ crossed the line to save Sam. 

He'd lied and schemed, made deals with demons, and broken promises. Yet, somehow, Dean hadn't been able to trust Sam-- He'd still felt that Amy needed to die. 

It all came back to trust, didn't it? More specifically, Dean's _lack_ of trust in Sam. 

And Sam couldn't figure out why. Sure, he'd made a few mistakes and trusted the wrong people, but who hadn't? 

Resigned to another sleepless night, Sam flung the covers off and got out of bed. 

He winced when he stood, the muscles in his back and neck coiled tight with stress. 

Hoping to find at least a little relief from the physical ache of Dean's betrayal, Sam got in the shower and turned the water on as hot as it would go. 

After a few minutes, the pounding water started to soothe him, and Sam felt his eyelids droop. Maybe he'd be able to doze for at least another hour...

He got out and dried off, then swiped his hand over the mirror to clear away the steam. 

Although his muscles felt more relaxed, the ache in his chest was still there. 

He wanted his brother, wanted to forgive Dean. 

But Sam also wanted an apology...because Dean had _killed_ his friend.

As he crawled back into bed and laid his wet head on the pillow, Sam tried to ignore the heavy feeling that settled in his gut. 

_ How the hell were they going to get past this...? _


	3. Let's Just Work, Okay?

“Did you get any sleep at all last night? You look like crap,” Sam said, sliding the carafe closer to his yawning brother. 

Dean grunted. “Not really. What did you find?” 

Sam could see the steam coming off the top of his brother’s coffee, but Dean didn’t seem worried about burning himself as he breathed in the soothing aroma and took several large gulps. 

After setting the mug back down on the table, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Another familiar action of Dean’s, it meant his head was hurting. 

_ Good _ , Sam thought spitefully, _h_ _ e should feel bad. _

“Not much, but--” He was interrupted by his phone ringing. 

He picked it up, spoke to the sheriff. 

Dean waited until Sam had hung up to ask, “What is it?” 

“Another body. Nikolai.” 

Dean frowned. “That’s the spoon-bending guy, right?” 

Sam nodded curtly. “Yeah. His assistant found him this morning.” 

“How’d he bite it?” Dean asked, taking another long drink. When he set the cup down a little too hard on the table, he winced. 

Sam shrugged in answer to his question. “Sheriff said it might be best if we head to the crime scene.” 

“Did he seem spooked?” 

Sam spoke while he gathered up the files and closed his laptop. “Not really. He sounded… tired. I guess.”  The empathy he felt for the sheriff was evident in the tone of his voice.

Dean nodded and stood up to follow Sam out to the car, but at the last minute, he decided to throw the poor lovesick waiter a bone. Dean acknowledged him with a nod as they walked out. 

The guy’s smile was nice, but his hair was way too short. 

Dean liked having something to hold onto while he fucked. 

The drive over to the late magician's house was quiet and thankfully quick. Dean pulled the Charger up to the curb outside of Nikolai’s house in under ten minutes. 

They got out and strode up the driveway in their FBI get-ups, straight past a couple of uniformed officers. 

Dean briefly wondered if his baby brother had the same itch to hightail it out of there. No matter how long it'd been since he'd last been arrested, Dean always got a little nervous walking past the men and women in blue. 

Which was a little silly, since all they had to do was flash their fake badges to get shown inside. 

Inside, the house was small but neat. Well, everywhere except where Nikolai’s body was lying on the glass table with several knives stuck in him. 

While Sam spoke with the sheriff to see what, if anything, they'd found, Dean took a closer look at Nikolai. 

As he carefully leaned over the body to see if there was a pattern to the wounds, Dean realized there were more than just knives hidden underneath it. The guy had been stabbed by various utensils. 

Dean whistled, he didn’t even know it was possible to stab someone with a spoon. 

The weirdest part, however, was that all of the silverware was standing up when Nikolai was impaled. So, either they were looking for someone with at least twelve hands who could've held all of the forks, knives, and spoons at attention _and_ dropped Nikolai down onto them... or _something_ had mojo-ed the weapons into place while floating his body over the table. 

Sam came over to join him. 

For the second time that day, a phone went off. But this time, it was Dean’s. 

Melanie sounded a little panicky, so Dean did his best to calm her down. He thought he saw a flicker of jealousy in his brother’s hazel eyes, but just as quickly, it was gone. Dean chalked it up to a trick of the light. 

Once the brothers were back in their temporary ride, Sam wasted no time in filling the silence.  “So, what did she say? Was there another attack?” 

Dean didn’t answer, at first. He was too distracted by the sunlight shining on Sam’s long hair. He’d been growing it out again, and it was now long enough that Dean could get a nice secure grip in it, enough to yank Sam’s head back while they were fucking.  Sammy loved it when he did that. 

Sam’s strong jaw was smooth, unlike Dean's. He couldn’t find the energy to mess with a razor right now, so he was sporting a prickly layer of stubble. 

His life was going down in flames, who cared if he was clean-shaven? 

“Dean?” Sam prompted when Dean forgot to answer. He waited impatiently, huffing to show he was annoyed. 

Dean sighed before twisting toward the front so he could shift the car into gear. 


	4. Love and Hate Are So Similar

When they arrived at Melanie’s, she invited them in and led them to the living room. 

It was cute and cozy. A few bookshelves lined the walls, but the windows let in a lot of light, which kept it from feeling too closed-off.

Dean tried to listen- he really did- but Sam’s thigh was brushing against his, and his brother had that soft, concerned look on his face that secretly drove Dean wild. 

He wanted to save Melanie, but honestly, a much bigger part of him wanted to pin Sam to the couch and kiss him all over. 

When Melanie explained her grandmother’s death vision, Dean reluctantly tuned back in. 

“She was in a seance, then, the lights go, it was freezing--” 

Sam interrupted her to say, “She said that-- that the room got cold?” 

Dean caught it, too. 

Melanie looked between them. “Yeah, why? Is that important?” 

The brothers exchanged a look. 

The sudden drop in temperature suggested they were dealing with a ghost, and, from the violent deaths, it was probably a nasty one. 

With growing trepidation, Melanie prodded, “What… what is it?” 

Although there was a palpable tension evident between them, Dean and Sam were still on the same wavelength professionally. So, after silent communicating, Dean filled the psychic in, telling her it was a ghost. 

Now that they knew what they were hunting, it made things a little easier... _ or _ it  _ would have _ if things were good between them. 

But, as soon as Dean suggested they hit up the storefronts along Main street, Sam countered by saying he was thinking they should split up to canvass. 

_ “Sure. 'Course you were…” _ Dean muttered under his breath, watching his brother walk away, yet again. 

Although he knew he shouldn’t have lied to Sam, this was getting ridiculous. 

It wasn’t like Sammy hadn’t ever lied to him!  And Dean had forgiven him every damn time. 

So, why couldn’t Sam get off his high horse already and just accept his apology? 

Dean got into the Charger and curled his hands over the wheel, hoping for some comfort. It didn’t feel right, though. Whereas the Impala’s black leather was smooth and well-cared for, the interior of the Charger was cracked and sun-worn. 

Glancing around the dingy interior of his borrowed ride, Dean grimaced. 

Without the comfort of his Baby or his brother, Dean suddenly felt bone-weary, unsettled, and alone.


End file.
